


Something's in the forest

by lilmissmaya



Series: Fuss and Bother [4]
Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: Gen, I can only write sadness, I'm so sorry, a bit scarier this time, deaf!Snufkin, implied violence and death, mostly snufkin and joxter, snufkin's not handling things as well as he acts, something's in the forest, winter isolation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-03-13 05:20:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18934276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilmissmaya/pseuds/lilmissmaya
Summary: there's a sense of unease in the valley. something's in the forest, stalking the residents. with winter setting in, snufkin and the joxter are the only ones awake during the long hibernation. will they find out what is going on in the woods?4th in the series to basic access, rootlessness and from yesterday. (I really need to set this up as a series!)





	1. Chapter 1

Snufkin’s hand hesitated on the doorknob. He was just going to go for a walk, alone. He liked walking in the woods alone so-

Why was he frightened?

More and more lately he’d been starting to feel nervous to go out alone. That wasn’t good, it was silly. And he wasn’t sneaking out, he just wanted to walk without moomin there.

He ignored his racing heart and stepped outside. It was early, early in the morning, before even the birds were awake. Just him. He relaxed a little and started wandering. 

See, he told himself. This is nice. 

There was a bit of a ridge line before the beach, it made a good place to see the ocean. The moon was fat and yellow, black sky over black water, with the reflection-

He settled down to watch, enjoy this moment. 

It was getting into the late weeks of summer, when it was hot in the afternoons and chilly in the mornings. The grass was thick with dew, the leaves were getting that worn, yellow look. He couldn’t hear the wind any longer (though he was starting to have some better days here and there.) but sitting here he could feel the change. A change in pressure, a change in scent as the wind started blowing in from the north. 

Autumn was here. 

He felt more than heard too-ticky walk up and settle down next to him. He liked her, a steady, soothing presence. Rather than demanding his attention, she simply was there. 

Together they watched the moon meet it’s reflection in the water, the sky going from black to blue, to grey with dawn. 

“Whelp.” she stood up, brushing dew off her sturdy pants. “Coffee?”

“Sure.”

It was a little ways to her summer camp, and they didn’t speak until they got there and the coffee poured.

“Heard you’re staying the winter this year.”

“Yeah, thought I’d try it.”

“Always feel free to visit me if you get bored.”

“Thank you too-ticky.”

“Going to be an early winter this year, I think.”

“You feel it too?” 

“Yeah.” she stretched out her legs. “Wind changed this morning.”

“Mmm.” the conversation died off. But it wasn’t awkward like it was with so many others. 

“Thank you for the coffee, but I better be getting back.”

“Keeps you on a short leash, does he?”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

She laughed. “Have a good day, snufkin.”

 

It was still dark among the trees, the sun not awake enough to cast it’s light through the leaves. 

And he- stopped. 

A crawling feeling on the back of his neck and a change in the air pressure, like something very big was very close. He stood very still, barely daring to breathe as it- the pressure released, the presence leaving. 

Don’t panic, don’t run, he told himself, over and over as he tried to walk calmly home. Don’t panic, don’t run. There are no monsters in moomin valley.  
And definitely don’t look back.

By the time he arrived at the cottage, he’d almost convinced himself he’d just become paranoid. The weird anxiety he’d developed was just making his mind think strange things. In the bright light of day it seemed silly. Best to forget about it and make some breakfast for himself and moomin. Oh, and his freeloader father too…

Okay, so maybe he wasn’t that upset about the Joxter staying for a while. He stayed on the back porch or in the shade tree, helped out with things he found interesting. Snufkin was slowly getting used to him. 

“You’re up early.” said freeloader mentioned, hanging out in the shade tree once again. 

“Took a walk. Autumn is setting in.”

“Hup, thought it smelled different this morning.”

 

Breakfast, lazy cuddling. An invitation to gather acorns with Snorkmaiden, her brother, Little My and sniff. It was a good time of year for foraging, getting stuff ready for fall, to feast on before the long winter hibernation. They trooped to the deeper forest, armed with bags and spread out.  
The joxter followed, but he and Sniff ate more than they gathered. Old habits were hard to break, he guessed. 

He and moomin gathered a good bit and found yellow plums, (which made a good lunch,) until Snorkmaiden’s scream pierced through the forest.  
Snufkin didn’t hear it, but when moomin dropped his bag and ran, he was on his heels. 

“Oh groke.” the joxter said, already peering over snorkmaiden’s shoulder. “Kids, don’t look.”

Snufkin didn’t have to, he could smell the rust-red stink of it. (there was a time, when he wandered into a country that wasn’t so peaceful- he didn’t like to think of that adventure. It stunk much like this.) he grabbed snorkmaiden’s paw and pulled her away, putting her in the paws of her brother. 

“Take her to moominmama, okay?”

“What is it? I want to see!” Little My demanded.

“No, you don’t.” joxter said flatly, “snufkin, go find a shovel or two.”

Bags of acorns were gathered up, (little my was put into an empty bag before she could get in the way) and snufkin left moomin and the others back in the moomin house. He returned with the shovels.

“Who is it?”

“A deer of some sort. There’s a hoof or two. I think.” the joxter grimaced. “Is the girl going to be okay?”

“Hard to tell off-paw. Pie will help.”

“I’m missing pie for this.” his father grumbled, taking a shovel. Best to give the poor beast a proper burial. 

“What could have done this?” he frowned. “There’s no predators around here big enough. Wild boar?”

His father frowned, looking at him oddly. “Did you see anything when you were out this morning?”

“No… not saw...no, I was being odd and imagining things.” he shook his head. “I need to sleep more.”

“Hrm.” the joxter went quiet as they buried what was left of the forest dweller. “You know how much I hate saying this-”

“But we should tell the hemulen police?”

“Ug, yes. No wait, we’ll have moominpappa tell them. They are less likely to arrest him on sight.”

Snufkin’s eyes narrowed. “What have you been up to?”

“Nothing! Nothing technically illegal.”

“I don’t want to know.” secretly he did, but he wasn’t interested in getting arrested as an accessory. That would just worry moomin… and he was trying to worry him as little as possible. 

 

“Joxter-pappa?” moomin was peering out of the back door at him. The joxter tipped up his hat, the boy had his tail in hand, looking nervous. “Why don’t you spend the night inside?”

Inside? Sleep inside a house on a nice summer night? (not to mention snufkin would make that face. He was still a little territorial when it came to his and moomin’s personal space.)

“Thanks, boy-o, but I’m pretty comfy here.”

“I know, but…” he fiddled with his tail. “Snorkmaiden told me what she saw, and something had to have killed that deer…”

“And you’re worried it might have the taste for joxters, hm?” the boy’s eyes got big. Oh boy. “How about this? You can leave the door opened a little, so I can rush in if I need to.”

Moomin relaxed. “That’s a good idea.”

Despite his blitheness, joxter eyed the treeline. Just the hint of a bad feeling…


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's out there-

The days grew shorter, leaves started to fade. It wasn’t so hot anymore and snufkin felt antsy. Normally he’d be getting ready to leave, packing supplies but-  
The larger animals, the ones that liked to stop by to listen to snufkin’s music, stopped coming. Folks getting ready for winter? Migration or such? Moomin found loose fur and feathers in the woods. The snork found another torn-up forest creature, snufkin and joxter buried that one too. Moomin was, understandably, more clingy than usual. Rumors were going through the valley. 

Something was in the forest. 

 

The evenings were getting cooler and cooler as the sun started setting earlier. The joxter was going to have to figure out where he was going to sleep for the winter...maybe moominpapa’s cellar? A store of apples and liquor, it’d be a little lonely but he could-

He bristled suddenly. A rust-red smell and a buzzing of flies. 

Heck, heck, heck-

Slowly he stood up from the railing he was laying on, pulling his little knife from his waistband. Thank the groke the boy had kept the back door ajar just a wee bit since that first time-

/Something was in the forest./

Snufkin and moomin were trying to decide on a late dinner when there was a clatter from the rear of the house.

Joxter was standing with his back to them in the doorway to the back porch, straight, stiff. The stillness was strange, much less the fact he was inside the house. 

“Boys.” he said, in a very calm voice. “Make sure the front door and windows are locked, okay?”

The calm tone was frightening, even more so was how the joxter’s blue gaze was locked on something in the treeline bordering their property. 

Moomin shivered, repeated it to snufkin, and obeyed, making sure everything was locked down and the shutters closed.

“They’re locked.”

“Good.” his eyes were still locked on something out there in the forest as he stepped back into the house and shut the door. He locked it quickly, rattling it to make sure it was secure before his shoulders relaxed. 

He had his little knife in one gloved hand. Moomin hadn’t noticed before. 

“What was that about?” snufkin asked.

“A bad feeling. Now!” he took on a much cheerier tone. “How about we try to make some pancakes for supper!”

“You hate pancakes.” 

“Nonsense! I love all food.” he grabbed them by the elbows, steering them away from the door. “Put enough jam on something and anything is edible.”

“Is it the groke-”

“It's not the groke. I don’t know who it is, but I know it’s not the groke.” his voice dropped in tone. Moomin’s fur fluffed in alarm. “So let’s have some pancakes and not look out the windows!” and back to the cheeriness. 

 

Eventually the kids fell asleep, moomin in a ball in front of the fireplace and snufkin using him as a pillow. Joxter waited until their breathing was slow and even to stand up and peek around the curtain.

“What is it?” snufkin wasn’t asleep after all, watching him from under the brim of his hat. 

“I thought you were-”

“The floorboards move when you step.”

“Hup.”

“So?” snufkin joined him at the window. 

“Don’t know.” he scanned the tree line once more. “You feel anything?”

“No.” he wrinkled his nose. “Something stinks though.”

“Yeah, I smelled it too. I think it’s our local predator.”

“So… what should we do?”

The joxter groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. His first instinct was to say that they should move out right away and find warmer, less toothy climes. It was also his second and third instinct, which just left the awful, horrible answer- “The police around here couldn’t find their own tails with a map. That leaves… I can’t believe I’m saying this… us.” 

“Us?” 

“You, me, moomin, moominpapa. We need to find it and get it out the valley. With winter coming, it’s going to have less food out there… it might decide to come inside one of the houses.” responsibility hung heavy on him. He wasn’t used to being… well, anything useful. He didn’t like it.

“You’re right.” he pulled up his hat, running his fingers through his hair. Snufkin didn’t look like he enjoyed the idea much, but also didn’t see any other options too. “Where do we start?”

“We could….” he pondered. “Send Little My after it?”

“That’s a terrible idea.” snufkin glared.

“You’re right. She might make friends with it.” he’d gotten as far as ‘get it out of town’ and was a blank from there. “No good sitting up and worrying. Try to get some sleep.”

Snufkin eventually did, face buried in moomin’s shoulder. The joxter watched them from a spot across the room. Snuggling up like that- brought back memories. The ocean orchestra, curling up against a different moomin… if he kept thinking like that he’d get morose and then people would think he was the sort of person to have Serious Thoughts and he’d never live it down. 

If only he had any clue what he was supposed to do next.

Well, besides lots of coffee.


	3. Chapter 3

“Why don’t we ask too-ticky?” was moomin’s suggestion, the best so far. Moominpappa’s ideas had ranged from a deep water-filled pit trap to hunting it down with his trusty (if somewhat rusty) shotgun. Moominmamma suggested making a large pie, leaving it out for it to eat and maybe it would sleep it off the rest of the winter. (that one was still on the table as a possible option.) 

Snufkin looked thoughtful, ignoring the chattering around him as he pondered the porch floor. Moomin tapped on the table top to get his friend’s attention, then tapped on his mug. Snufkin shook his head no, then nodded towards the beach. Moomin nodded. Interesting how quickly they adapted to his deafness, a whole conversation in taps and nods.

“I’ll go talk to her, see what she thinks.” he said, standing up. 

“I’ll come with you.” the joxter hopped over the porch rail to catch up with him as his son walked away. 

“You don’t have to come, I can do this on my own just fine.” he grumbled. 

“I know, I just like too-ticky.” he adjusted his hat, straightened his scarf. “She might need someone to help keep her warm this winter.”

“Wrong tree.”

“Oh.” even his hat drooped a little. “Oh well.”

Snufkin side-eyed him a little, then sighed. “What were your parents like?”

“Dunno. Never met them. Sprang into the world fully-formed, hat and all.”

“Huh.” he pondered this as they walked to the swimming-house.

She’d moved in a bit early, feeling safer behind wooden walls. She set aside her fishing pole as they laid out what happened the night before. Getting her own pipe out, she considered their options. 

“You two are right, we need to get it out of the valley.” she puffed, thinking. “But what if it’s not something we can lure away or kill?”

“Like a famine spirit?” snufkin could feel his father’s body stiffen. “Hungry ghosts.”

“Or one of the other creatures of the Lady of Cold’s court.” the things that roamed the snowlands in midwinter, when few creatures dared to put a nose outside their dens. When there was no food to eat, and the breath froze in your lungs. For a moment, snufkin felt ill and dizzy- the Joxter’s hand squeezing his shoulder brought him around and for once he was glad for his father’s constant attempts at physical affection.

The wind picked up, bringing a hint of cold with it. 

“Early winter.” she said. “Best stock up on firewood.”

 

There wasn’t any question about it, Joxter was sleeping inside from Now On. he grumbled, he fussed, but the straw mattress wasn’t too bad, and it was warm inside the house. Snufkin wasn’t that happy about it either, but agreed it was for the best. (moomin was bound and determined to get them to have a good relationship, like him and his own papa. alas.)

The bad feeling wasn’t going away and it was making him itchy. 

But being seen must have frightened the thing. Things were quiet in the valley, and the residents finished getting ready for their long winter hibernation. Food was brought in, preserved. Moomin’s fur grew out thickly and he plumped up in anticipation. Joxter and snufkin could probably sleep through a good part of it, but not truly hibernate like the rest of the family. 

“Are you going to be okay?” moomin asked, worried. “All by yourself? I can try and stay awake like last time..”

“I like being alone. And the joxter is here, so…”

“You won’t kill him, will you?” he was so serious, snufkin almost laughed.

“I’ll do my best, I promise.”

“Don’t get chilled either.” he pulled his friend close, half burying him in fur.

“Not with you in the same bed!”

“I’m serious!” he wasn’t going to say it directly, but the memory of last winter was still strong. 

“I’ll do my best to not get chilled.”

 

Six weeks in and snufkin was ready to climb the walls. The snow has started early, the winds blew cold and hard. Being inside day in and out was killing him. Even the joxter looked droopy. They read books during their waking houses, played cards, played on the guitar. The daylight hours were getting shorter and shorter, by midwinter the sun would barely come up at all. Somehow they managed not to argue, but boredom was setting in.

 

Snufkin woke up to watery dawn light one morning. It’d stopped snowing for the moment, and the sun was trying to make its way through the clouds. Moomin was warm and he wanted to go back to sleep- but his stomach reminded him that he didn’t have a nice layer of fat to use. Ug. well, there was some soup from the day before he could heat up and eat. 

The joxter was also awake, sitting on the living room floor and drawing on the wall with a piece of charcoal. 

“What are you doing?”

“Um….” his father looked at him, at the wall and back up again. “Drawing.”

He could tell him to not do that, but it’d probably just invite him to continue on. Snufkin shook his head and went to the kitchen. 

The stove was lit, the kettle and soup pot put on. It was chilly, he had taken a blanket to wrap around himself while he waited for the water to boil. Last winter he’d-

Last winter he’d…

His throat was trying to close up again, his heart pounding for no good reason. He couldn’t really remember most of what happened, he’d been too feverish. So why was he suddenly thinking about it, why was he suddenly so scared- he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t move, just-

“Da…” he managed.

The joxter was in the kitchen in a blink, catching him just before snufkin’s knees gave out. 

“Hey, hey there. Breathe, boy-o, I got you.” this had happened before, that thunder storm in the summer, and this time snufkin was grateful for the joxter being there. He was solid, he was real. He clung to him like he was dying, until he could take a proper breath. 

It felt like forever before he felt steady enough to take a step back and sit on the kitchen chair. Joxter poured the tea for the two of them, pushed the bowl of soup in his hands. He sat next to him with his own food.

“Okay, so. What happened?” Snufkin shook his head.

“I don’t know. I was thinking about last winter when I was trying to come back here, then what too-ticky said… then I couldn’t breathe.” now he was embarrassed, overreacting like that. “I’m an idiot-”

“No, no you’re not. If I’d nearly froze to death, I’d be a little freaked out too.” it was getting dim in the kitchen, the low winter sun losing against the clouds. Joxter reached out, a hand on the back of snufkin’s neck. He was torn between pushing him off and leaning into it, he wanted the comfort no matter how much it made his skin crawl to be touched. 

They ate quietly, cleaned up. He was tired after the episode, but wanted company for a little while longer. 

“I saw a wendigo once.” he father offered after a long period of silence. “A famine ghost. Looked like a giant skeleton-” he stopped, running his fingers through his hair. “I hid until it left.”

“Is this a wendigo?” he shook his head.

“I don’t know. Not sure I want to get close enough to know.” he hugged himself for a moment, then got up. “Lets go to bed. It better stop snowing soon, or I’m going to gnaw through my-”

Snufkin felt it’s pressure, more than heard it. His father did, the way he bristled and jerked the kitchen curtain shut with a string of swears. 

Their eyes met and his father motioned for them to move out of the kitchen. Back to the bed room where moomin was still peacefully sleeping. (it’d take a bomb to wake him up when he was deeply hibernating. Lucky him.) 

“So, father dearest-” snufkin put as dryly as possible. Funny, there was no panic, no anxiety about this. Maybe he was numb. “-you don’t happen to have a plan, do you?”

“My /plan/ was we all be on a warm beach, drinking rum and not getting eaten.” he grumbled. “I did bring it up several times.” at some point he’d picked up the small handaxe they used to make kindling. Much good it would do for them.

“And then you decided on the noble thing of getting eaten with us.”

“For the record, leaving was a better idea then moominpappa’s pit trap.”

“Fair.” he covered his mouth and nose, the rust-red rot smell was so strong he could taste it. “Can’t kill a ghost.”

Joxter’s grip on the handaxe didn’t loosen. “Ahhh.. heck. Didn’t your little boyfriend tell us about the time too-ticky built a snow horse for the Lady of the Cold?”

“He’s- hrm, yeah. What does a wendigo want?”

“To eat. They eat and eat and are never satiated.”

There was a creak on the porch, a shadow went across the window, backlit by the early setting sun.

“So an offering or shrine is out of the question.”

“Why couldn’t it be an angry giant boar?” he grunted, then found snufkin’s hand and squeezed. “I’m going to tell you now, you’re my favorite kid.”

“I’m your only kid.”

“That I know of. But still you came out pretty good. And I’m gonna be sorry that I can’t meet the grandkids.”

“Grandkids, what are you-” he tried to grab at his father as he rushed to the door, threw the lock open and dashed out. 

“Dad!” he followed behind, intending to grab him and pull him back inside before- but his father was standing there, looking around. Confused.

Alone.

“It’s… you saw it too, didn’t you?” they were standing in stocking feet in the snow, looking at the unbroken expanse of white. 

“Yes… I mean, I thought I did…”

But there was no sign of anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what I'm writing anymore. I need a nap. does anyone like this story?


	4. Dead of-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> winter sets in, and so does paranoia

They searched the clearing around the house high and low and found nothing. Too wired for sleep, they ended up drinking tea by the low fire, racking their brains for what was going on. 

“Too much time inside.” the joxter finally decided. “It rots the mind and makes one go mad.”

It was hard to argue with that logic. 

“Get your coat, we’re visiting too-ticky.” the joxter was already getting his boots. “We need the air.”

Now? The sun was already setting, and there was that flicker of anxiety setting in. but maybe it was what he needed, some exercise and fresh air? It wasn’t far. Nothing to be worried about. 

(why was he so worried?)

(why couldn’t he just sleep through the winter, wake up in the spring? Then he and moomin could get back to the cozy normal and plant honey-currant bushes…)

The wind was picking up as they made their way down the shortcut through the woods. It bit fiercely, a promise of snow and the Lady of the Cold’s court. At least moving felt good, even if it was a slog through knee-high snow. 

The Joxter, it seemed, was regretting his impulsive decision, muttering swears into his scarf with every step. But they broke through the woodline and the swim-house sat against the inky sea, glowing like a jewel in the dark. 

Too-ticky must have heard them coming over the snow, she was at the doorway waiting in her usual thick sweater, hair practical and short.   
“Rather late for a visit, isn’t it?” she asked, closing the door behind them. 

“It’s practically mid-afternoon.” joxter grumbled, pulling off his boots. “We decided you needed company.”

“We thought we saw our local beast again. But nothing was there.”

“Ahh. I see. Coffee?” she added a little liquor to each mug, medicinal of course. Against the cold. 

“It stinks, it sounds like flies. Figments of the imagination don’t stink, do they?” snufkin felt the alcohol warm his chest, relax the buzzing anxiety that he’d been holding since fall. “Or have we worked ourselves up so much we see shadows?”

“Everything is as likely as anything else.” she said calmly. “Who is to say that the beast exists in reality all the time? Sometimes the walls between worlds gets thin in these long dark nights.”

He wished moomin was awake, able to comfort him. Selfish, maybe. Important to admit to himself that he needed it. His mug was refilled, letting the conversation between his father and too-ticky pass him by unheard. They were excited, talkative after weeks with little conversation. Snufkin… liked the company, but felt no need to join in. the fire was nice, the alcohol was nice. He wished moomin was here, it’d be perfect. 

“Snufkin?” they were looking at him, his cheeks were damp. 

“I…” he wiped at his eyes. “Was thinking of moomin.” he said, honestly. Too-ticky nodded, giving him a quick squeeze of his hand. It was hard to admit… but he felt a little better for it. It was easier to miss someone when you were busy. 

“We might just need to hold out until the Lady is ready to leave and the weather starts warming up.”

“It showed up in late summer.” joxter reminded her. “I don’t think it cares about the season, it’s just hungry.”

“Then maybe it isn’t part of Her court after all. A curse, maybe, from another valley?”

“Arg.” the joxter rubbed his head. “I hate having to think. It’s bad for me. How do we get rid of a curse?”

“Find the source of the curse.” snufkin replied. 

“Which… could be anything! anywhere!” coffee splashed as he gestured. “And we can’t exactly go around looking for something willy-nilly in this weather.”  
“We might be able to narrow it down.” too-ticky said calmly. “It kills and eats forest creatures. And it seems to like your cabin.” she paused, tapping her cheek. “Who’ve you pissed off lately, joxter?”

“No one! I would never- well, not enough for this sort of thing. A joxter has to eat, after all.” Both looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Seriously!” he grumbled, looking away and crossing his arms. “Thinking I would do such a thing to get us cursed like this….”

“We live farther out from the rest of the valley residents.” on purpose, snufkin thought. Though, it seemed to have backfired, exchanging safety for privacy. “And surrounded by woods. That part might be coincidence. Not because joxter got us all cursed.”

“Thank you. I think we can agree that this is Not My Fault.”

“Until proven otherwise, at least.” his father harumpted. 

 

Snufkin was standing on the beach, watching the sea. The moon was reflecting off of it, fat and white. The waves lapped around his feet but still, he stood watching. Then higher, the icy water up to his knees, his waist. He started to panic, but he couldn’t move, up to his neck, his mouth-

He jerked awake, flailing against the blanket someone had put over him. The fire was burning low, his father and too-ticky were asleep. 

Air, he needed air.

The sun was low, just coming up in a half-hearted attempt at daylight. It was terribly cold, but he could breathe again. Staying in moominvalley was a mistake, he should have left. Well, too late now. He’d take a walk and go back to moomin.

It was a little disorienting, everything covered in a thick layer of snow. Nor was he exactly paying attention to where he was going, deep in thought while puffing on his pipe. So when he finally looked up- he was startled to find he wasn’t sure where he was.

He couldn’t be that far from the cottage, he hadn’t been walking that long. But- he turned around, trying to orient himself with sun. His heart was trying to pound, he tried to calm it with logic. He couldn’t be that far, he hadn’t been walking that long. He wasn’t lost, he was never lost. It ignored him and the panic was starting to rise, made worse by the fact that moomin or joxter wasn’t around to help-

He made himself breath slowly, in and out. Wishing he knew why this kept happening, wishing he could stop it. The beach was south of the cottage, if he kept the sun on his left he’d hit the beach. See? He wasn’t lost. If only his heart would listen to his brain and calm down. If he could get to the beach, he could get back to his father before he got overwhelmed. 

His legs were numb and he plopped down on the ground, just for the moment. And the cold of the snow helped. In and out. His heart slowed. 

Panic died down into embarrassment and relief. Getting upset about being lost, how silly-

He managed to pick his way back home without incident, breathing a sigh of relief once inside. He wasn’t quite tired yet, but cold and damp from the snow. He built up the fire, settling with tea. This was nice. (it would have been much nicer with moomin, but nice enough without his father hanging around.) then again, it was nice to enjoy one's own company. 

He ended up dozing, tea half drunk and forgotten. Half-dreaming of fried potatoes, a cold draft and the shifting of floorboards woke him up again.   
“Joxter?” he asked groggily. 

It wasn’t him. 

His brain couldn’t quite wrap itself around what he was seeing, each bit didn’t seem to quite connect to the other. Human parts, animal, teeth, flickering in and out of the firelight. 

Well -shit-. 

The handaxe was by the door, on the other side of the thing. He was between it and the bedroom door, where moomin was sleeping. Funny, he felt calm. He was between it and moomin-

There were moments like hours, the room growing cold in the Beast’s presence. He could see his breath, frost tracing the floor-

The Beast moved, and so did snufkin, slamming into it, wrestling. The cold of the thing burned his bare skin, teeth buried into his arm. He barely felt it, adrenaline running through his veins. 

How do you kill a thing made of ice and the hunger of winter?

With fire, of course. 

He pulled it to the fireplace, pushing it down into the flames. Ignoring the burning, he held it into fire until it stopped moving and someone pulled him away. It took him a moment to realize joxter was there with too-ticky and a groggy moomin.

“What the hell-” he could see joxter’s lips move and a wave of nausea and dizziness came over him. The stink was overwhelming as the beast smoldered in their living room. He was pulled out into the snow, unresisting, too-ticky packing it over his clothes to snuff out the embers. 

“That’s a smell that’s never getting out of the walls.” joxter grumbled, before grabbing snufkin’s face and kissing his forehead hard. 

“What happened, what’s going on?” moomin knelt down to snufkin, touching his shoulder. “What happened?”

“I left the door unlocked.” he said, half in a daze. “I think I got it.” and then he hugged moomin around the neck. 

Too-ticky touched their shoulders. “We need to clean him up, and your house needs to air out. Let’s get back to the swim house.”

Snufkin didn’t want to let go of moomin, it took them a minute to convince him he needed his hands looked at and treated. It wasn’t bad, or at least, it didn’t feel too bad. (it was sure to feel worse in the morning, or… whenever it was he’d wake up. He wasn’t sure what time of day or night it was now.) moomin put the salve on the burns, the bite wound, wrapped it up for him. They kept asking him if he was okay, and he said he was, he felt okay. He felt… not much at all, really. He must not have been terribly convincing, they made strange faces. Eventually… he curled up against moomin and fell asleep. He didn’t dream. 

He slept for… he wasn’t sure. When the sun barely comes up, days slip into each other. But he felt better for it, waking up with his face in moomin’s thick fur. They were in moomin’s old room, back in the moomin house. He’d go back to sleep, but his stomach grumbled, reminding him that it’d been a while. He slipped out from under moomin and padded downstairs, to see if there was anything to eat before going back to bed. 

His father and too-ticky were in the kitchen, looking up when he stepped inside. 

“Boy-o!” joxter grinned, standing up and reaching for him. “I was worried you’d never wake up!”

“I must have needed to sleep.” he let joxter hug him. 

“How’s your arms?” 

“Hurts a little, not too bad.” he’d almost forgotten about it, really. He’d heal up. “I don’t remember coming back here.”

“You were sound asleep. More room up here, the cottage is a mess. Here, eat.” soup was pushed towards him, and he settled to eat.

Silence as they settled back around the table.

“What...was it?”

“Wechuge, maybe?” too-ticky said. “Not something from around here. Who knows how it got here or why.”

“Is it dead?”

“We buried whatever was left under the beach. But you got it pretty good.” 

“Good.” he finished his food and stood up. “I’m going to sleep the rest of the winter. Don’t wake me up.”

“See you next spring.”

And with that, snufkin went back to bed, determined to sleep away the rest of the season.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the end! thank you guys for reading! sorry it took so long, things got busy....

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what I'm doing.


End file.
